True Measure of Friendship
by ProfessorElk
Summary: My take on what occurs between Seasons 10 and 11: The measure of a true friendship is that you can grow separately without growing apart.


**True Measure of Friendship**

By ProfessorElk

_Disclaimer_: The NCIS characters mentioned below are not mine and no profit has been made in the writing or posting of this story.

_Summary_: The measure of a true friendship is that you can grow separately without growing apart.

_Spoilers_: Set between Seasons 10 and 11. Spoilers for 10x19 "Squall" and 10x24 "Damned If You Do"

* * *

**Part I**

The radio on his shoulder cackled to life, white noise alerting him before the voice began to speak. "DiNozzo," the nameless voice called, "we've got reports of an agitated man on the fifth floor delivery wing. The nurses and new parents are starting to get concerned. Go see what's going on."

"Will do," he replied, lifting his finger from the button on the shoulder-device to end the conversation. He cast the nurse to whom he was talking an apologetic smile, "Duty calls," he murmured to her matching sly smile, quickly throwing his almost empty Styrofoam coffee cup in the trashcan by the break room door. He made his way to the stairwell at the end of the hall, wanting to leave the elevators open and available for people who needed them more than he. If he was being honest, though, walking up a few flights of stairs had become a high point in the usually unexciting day. He was grateful for this job, and it certainly helped in paying the bills not to mention being around sweet-faced nurses, but the day in and day out monotony was tiresome. The man upstairs, most likely a new dad finally realizing that he was responsible for another little person for the rest of his life, was the first interesting thing to happen in this hospital for all the weeks that he had been there. There had been a near fistfight last week in the emergency room, but it had been broken up by the time he arrived. Overall, the weeks had quietly passed and his adrenaline was itching to be released.

His footsteps echoed off of the cement stairs, the small area bathed in hues of gray, dark and dreary save for the overhead solitary florescent light bulb offering some light. He passed by splotches of color, hospital personnel dressed in pink, green, and blue. One nurse dressed in green looked up from her seat on the cement stair, painted purple-black nails poised over the keypad of her cell phone, glaring at him as he skirted around her, coming dangerously close to stepping on her as he rounded the corner to quickly climb another flight of steps. On the next landing, a big bright green "4" painted on the cement bricks and situated next to an equally bright green door, illuminated the personnel dressed in pink and blue standing before it, their conversation stilling as he passed, their whispered murmurs resuming once they thought he was out of earshot.

He reached the fifth floor, trying to ignore his annoying pants caused by the exertion, opening the bright green door to the level. His eyes swept the hall, searching for erratic behavior. In the waiting area, one man was sitting hunched over in his chair, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together in front of him, arms bouncing as he tapped his foot with nervous energy. He started to make his way over to the man, only to stop short once an older woman slid into the empty seat beside the man, handed him a steaming cup of coffee, and wrapped an arm around him. The man stilled his frantic movements, leaning into the embrace.

Frowning at his now lack of a target, he continued down into the hall, looking for any men who looked out-of-place. He nodded politely to several doctors he passed and had to step around little children whose shoes squeaked on the linoleum floors as they raced down the hall in excitement, their father calling after them to be more careful, a huge bouquet of red roses in his hand. Everything seemed to be in order as he followed the cries of newborns further into the wing, eyes sweeping left and right searching for problems.

He caught the gaze of one of the nurses, her tense expression softening with relief when she saw him. She jerked her head to the side, silently urging him to go further down the hall to which he flashed her a small smile of thanks. People backed themselves against the walls as he passed, parents tucking their children to their sides and shepherding them away from him. Their anxiety caused his to grow, his hand unconsciously drifting to his side, fingers brushing against his holstered gun.

His steps became near silent as he approached the nursery viewing window, a man pacing in front of the pane of glass, one hand twitching with jerked movements and the other shakily being carded through the man's hair. He could not see the man's face, but from the back, he seemed disheveled. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for confronting a man who was most likely not a new father, but was probably high.

His eyes scanned the enclosed area, making sure it was clear of soft targets, as he carefully approached. He needed to get the man away from the nursery viewing window, to protect all the new lives nestled behind the sheet of glass. What he was about to do could turn hostile very quickly, and he tried to run different scenarios through his head. It was not ideal, but the best idea he could come up with was to approach the man and try to lead him away from the babies. One last quick glance around the hall revealed that everyone had taken shelter, doors to patient rooms firmly shut, the walkway void of people.

Relaxing his shoulders to appear more friendly, hand on his hip, fingers close enough to his holster to draw his gun if necessary, he approached the man who was still pacing in front of the glass window. Taking a fortifying breath, he greeted, "Hard to believe those little scrunched up faces are going to be asking for your wallet in a few years."

He watched the man carefully, searching for a reaction. There was none. He came closer.

"Which one is yours? I would say mine's the one with the high-pitched scream, but that doesn't narrow it down much, does it?"

The man had stilled his restless pacing and had braced himself against the sill of the window, head bowed. He took another cautious step closer to the target, now practically shoulder to shoulder with the other man. The man showed no sign of realizing he was no longer alone.

"Ya know," he began, eyes darting along the man's profile, "the wife wanted to be surprised. Said it wouldn't matter if it was a boy or a girl. She insisted everything be yellow or green."

He huffed out a laugh. "She even got yellow and green dresses and rompers, though if you ask me, she bought way more dresses than rompers."

He smiled lazily. "Women."

"But now, seeing all those pink and blue little bundles makes me want to gender stereotype my kid. I'm thinking massive pink teddy bear. Think they have those in the gift shop? Who am I kidding? Of course they do! They're counting on exploiting guys like us. Probably hiked up the prices too."

He took a risk and threw his arm around the man's shoulders good-naturedly. The man did not even flinch.

He was surprised at the inaction of the other man, though silently thankful that he now had a hold on the target. Now he just needed to get the man away from the babies.

"You ever bought for a baby before? Cuz honestly, I don't have a clue." He started to gently tug the other man to the deserted hallway. "What do you get for someone that says 'Hey, I'm your dad'?"

The other man was rooted in place, refusing to budge against his own minute pulls. He put more force into his efforts, but the target began to weakly fight back. The seemingly deranged man broke free of his grasp and made to back to his post in front of the viewing window. Judging that trying to handle the situation delicately was no longer an option, he reached for the man, catching him by the shoulder. He gave the target a forceful tug, causing the other person to stumble slightly as he spun him around.

He silently gasped when he caught sight of the other man's face. He knew every angle, every scar, and every look on that face. It was the face of a man that until recently, he had seen nearly every day, with whom he experienced the good and the bad, for the past nine years.

"Tim?"

* * *

**_a/n: This was written both in honor of a new season of NCIS and also because this is my one year anniversary on this site. Thank you so, so much for such a wonderful experience here and for taking the time to read my stories. It is truly humbling to have so many people from all over the world read what I wrote. It never ceases to amaze me how far these stories have been able to go and be enjoyed. You have given me so much support and provided me with so much enlightenment as a person and as a writer. You are amazing, and I thank you for sharing this experience with me!_**

**_This story will be concluded in my next installment. Until then, enjoy the premiere episode on Tuesday and I am wishing you all 'happy reading'!_**


End file.
